


All Aboard the Hetalexa

by KitariAuthor



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: M/M, Magic, NASA, Roscosmos, Spaceship Captain!Alfred/Interstellar Worker Ivan, alfred's kinda more mature, aliens kinda, and like a father figure to nasa and roscosmos, as in like a humantalia, dunno who's on top and who's on bottom though, ivan's more on the curious and cautious side, like those white things from paint it white, magical things happen, pictonians - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-12
Updated: 2019-03-21
Packaged: 2019-10-09 00:09:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 11,320
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17396384
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KitariAuthor/pseuds/KitariAuthor
Summary: Ivan Braginsky is a Roscosmos worker being transferred to the NASA Interstellar. The first day on the job, he hears about the mysterious Alfred Jones who's never been seen and is shrouded in rumors. Magical things insue and Ivan did not expect NASA's workaholic to be the captain of a spaceship! And what happens when aliens decide to attack Earth...???





	1. Newbie

Ivan Braginsky is a 28-year-old new member of the NASA Interstellar. He was sent there by Roscosmos to help build some insight and trust between the two programs. The Russian was fascinated by astrology and going into space. He likes to think he's open-minded, friendly and smart, so he thinks that getting along with everyone at Interstellar will be not so bad.

His vibrant violet eyes widen in curiosity and awe as he soaked up the new place he was about to start working in. His scarf childishly wrapped up past his chin and his ashen blond hair swaying and framing his face. He found himself gazing around as he made his way to the boss's office and meeting a few coworkers along the way.

The team was lively and friendly, alright. He's heard that Americans were rowdy and loud, but these people put it to a whole new level, but not in a bad way. It was awkward and a tad too loud at first, but he kinda learned to cope with it. The current head, Matthew Williams, welcomed Ivan with open arms and everyone helped him warm up and get started.

~~~~~

Alfred Jones is a 32-year-old member of the NASA Interstellar and captain of the Hetalexa Space Station. He's known to be silent, a workaholic, genius about space, astrology, and seemed to be entrusted with all the secrets and information that NASA has. Almost no one except the utmost heads knew that he knows this information knowing that he'd rather die than slip anything. They also know that there is information about Roscosmos that he's been given that he won't tell either. What's more is that none of his coworkers has seen his face since the introduction party.

There are also some other secrets that Alfred hasn't told anyone and that is that he lives in an unknown space station that the citizens of the world don't know. In fact, when he isn't grinding away at his work back at the Interstellar, he's the captain of the Hetalexa Space Station. It was also called the Nasarcos by some of the members, or celestronauts as they're playfully called, whether it was the American astronauts or the Russian cosmonauts. Everyone on the ship knows him and they've pretty much gone to every planet.

How could a ship be this stable and tough to withstand the planets, how is Alfred going back and forth between a space station and the Interstellar, and how the heck is no one knowing about this? Well, to put it simply, personifications of nations are letting them do this. Ms. America and Ms. Russia, specifically. The two are dope friends, as the opinion of the crew jovially say, and is having them collect data on these planets to see if they could launch themselves a couple galaxies away. Thanks to Mr. England, they have a cool, magical portal, called a Saronium Gate that can transport them from anywhere to the space station. All they had to do was turn the little jewel on the special rings that the nations gave them.

Alfred was entrusted with more work with working at the Interstellar and as captain of the Hetalexa. To put the little cherry on top, he has to take care of the two native residences of the Hetalexa; NASA and Roscosmos, themselves. NASA was a shy girl with a big mind and an excited personality. Roscosmos was a spacy boy who was never afraid to be outwardly curious. The two were both very enthusiastic and friendly on most days, and yes, about the size of toddlers. What's more is that they've taken a strong liking to Alfred, for some reason.

America and Russia had always seemed to be good friends with the American male. They ran into him while exiting a world meeting. He was working for a sorry excuse for a paper route and wasn't even being treated nicely, to begin with. But he had a big heart and helped the two, unsuspecting that they were nations. After running into him a couple times, they learned that he wanted to work for NASA but never made it in. They realized that he was extremely smart about the topic and could provide for the space station accordingly.

And so, they introduced him to NASA and Roscosmos. The two little space stations normally didn't warm up to people that easily, but for some reason, Alfred just fascinated them. Thus, he was entrusted with typically taking care of the two while he was at the Hetalexa.

~~~~~

Alfred was typing something up for NASA when he heard a commotion from his office. He brushed it off. Matthew did tell him that there was someone from Roscosmos that was coming to work with them. Alfred, as Matthew expected, had gotten a short email about reminding any newcomers about making too big of a commotion outside his office and not to disturb him. The boss sighed as he noticed that it was the exact same email that he sent when the last newbie arrived.

Speaking of sighing, Matthew was found doing so, looking in the direction of Alfred's office.

"What is wrong, Mr. Williams?" Matthew's head snaps around to face the one who asked the question. The Russian accent made some chuckle. Ivan tilted his head worriedly for his boss.

"Hm? Oh, nothing for you to worry about," Matthew laughed.

One of the coworkers saw where he was looking at and snickered, "Nah, you're not gonna get 'im outta his office no matter what. You'll be lucky enough to even see him outta there, Braginsky," he slaps said Russian on the back.

"Who is he?" Ivan asks curiously.

"Alfred Jones," Matthew sighed, "He worries me sometimes. First to come, first to leave. Even when he's at home, NASA gets reports and finished work documents from him off-duty."

"...He sounds like a dedicated worker," Ivan hummed.

"Oh, he is," one of the female workers smile dreamily, "Too bad the hottie won't be interested in dating. Such a waste on good looks," many women around her murmur in agreement. He must be popular.

All the more made Ivan curious about what this super worker was about. He was quite known to be such a worker back at home and perhaps this Alfred Jones might be able to share in intelligence. He thinks about this as he gets set for work.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yo! Hey, hope you love this. I've always wanted to do something like this for a while and I'm thinking about rewriting the '50 Under One Flag' story since I've changed the format of my writing. I wanna do something new...so here's this! This one might be long and the chapters will mostly be short, but I hope it's good.


	2. Silhouette

It's been a couple weeks and Ivan's been in full swing of things. They were calling him the Russian Jones of Socializing. Ivan kindly put the nickname away. He didn't want to give Mr. Jones a reason not to come out and talk to him. But he still hasn't seen the rumored coworker. Surely working this much was unhealthy. He hasn't seen him leave the office or enter it. Though he's seen that Mr. Jones's punched in and out, but at extremely early and late times. Did he have any time to take care of himself and look as good as he was said to look?

"Do you even know what he looks like?" Ivan asked a fellow worker, Gilbert Beilschmidt.

"Once," the Prussian scowled, "And that's when we first met him. Had to burn the image in our heads, I mean, we weren't seeing him again after that. It was that one party. Women were all over him and he was so quick to dodge them, it was hilarious," he smirked, "But then it's like we never see him. Like, maybe his silhouette, but that's it!"

Ivan knew what he was talking about. Mr. Jones's office glass was heavily frosted instead of having blinds. So all they could pick out was his distorted and blurred out figure sat there at the desk. He found himself staring at that glass wondering what he could see if it was clear. What did this mysterious person look like? What did he do that needed so much work? His voice, his ideas, his thoughts. Many remember that he was a blond, smart in a suit, with a fiery spark in his cerulean eyes, behind those rectangular glasses. There was a rumor that he had this weird ahoge or cowlick (they had an argument if an ahoge and cowlick were different or the same thing, but apparently according to Mr. Honda, an ahoge was supposed to symbolize a bumbling, foolish, but spacy and carefree person) that stuck up, but they couldn't remember.

He shook his head. Perhaps if he worked up to his level, Mr. Jones would hear of his success and dub him worthy to talk to? Is that how he worked? He asked Gilbert and he just shrugged grumbling about how the heck was he or anyone to know how the workaholic functioned. Ivan cracked his knuckles and was determined to work harder.

~~~~~

"Braginsky, it's time to go home," Matthew tapped Ivan on the shoulder, snapping him out of his tunnel vision on the screen.

"What-? Oh, what time is it?" Ivan murmured, looking at his watch. His eyes widen, seeing that it was past 10 PM, "Ack, it's late!"

"Yeah, it is," Matthew chuckled as Ivan bolted up from his chair.

As Ivan was loading his briefcase up, stowing his laptop in its compartment, he found himself glancing at the light that was still on in Mr. Jones's office. He was still working.

Matthew sees him sigh. Putting his hand on Ivan's shoulder, he says, "I normally don't let anyone do this since someone has yet to succeed, but you can try getting Jones out of his office if you want," with that he leaves the empty workroom.

Ivan didn't get to ask him what he meant. He turned back to the frosted office and stalled a little. Many have jokingly rumored that the frost was really coming from Mr. Jones since was such a cold person. And sure enough, if you were to place your palm on the glass, it would feel cold and fog up. It would appear that the frosting was on the inside. Ivan found himself placing his hand on that cold glass again, the sound of the typing, writing, and paper sifting and shuffling routine now entirely audible to his ears.

He tried opening the door, which he finds out is locked. Typical. He stares warily at the Mr. Jones silhouette as he gave the glass a couple knocks. The paper shuffling staggered. Ivan's violet eyes widened and his breath seemed to stop. Though he started to gradually relax as he heard the cycle continue smoothly again.

He hesitated as he hoisted up his briefcase to go. Turning his back on the frost-glass office, he murmured a small worry that had been sitting on his heart, "Don't work too hard, da?"

"...Right back at you."

Ivan had walked a couple feet from the frost-glass office and about half of his body snapped around at the muffled and unfamiliar voice that came out of that unknown territory of NASA. Was he imagining it? Was this Mr. Jones character so mysterious that he was hallucinating his voice? Sure, he's done so before by on-the-fly descriptions, but this was the clearest any of his hallucinations have sounded. Or was this really a hallucination...?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So! What do you think???  
> I know this one is kinda short, but I'm gonna pop another update because this one is short, just wait a second...


	3. Feast

Alfred groaned when he saw his Rolex showed that it was 11 PM. He needed to get to the Hetalexa, or he'll miss mealtime. The members of the Hetalexa have a different sleep schedule than the ones down here in America. The ship has its own orbit, so technically its own ring, but right now, lunch should be happening. More specifically, feast time. To adjust how much food they can store up in the station, they just have one big feast each day, then eat snacks. Alfred was running a diagnostics of their food storages and saw that they were looking pretty dang good.

He didn't want to miss the only meal in the day. So, after punching out, he walked outside and turned the little blue diamond on his platinum ring. The ring was given to him by Ms. America. She was brazen and an energetic young-looking woman. Her dad, as she liked to call him, Mr. England explained to him and seven others how the rings worked. It was simple, really. Inside the ring were the words, 'Alfred F. Jones - Cap. Hetalexa Spaceship', all small and engraved right on the ring. With that, he whisked away and teleported to the Hetalexa Space Station in a matter of seconds.

~~~~~

"Ey, Fredka! You're here late," a boisterous and thick Russian accent called out playfully and said American was harshly slapped on the back.

"Anyastasia," Alfred grimaced at the stinging sensation that resided in his back, "Did I miss feast time or what?"

"Nyet, you missed nothing. I just usually get here after you, so yeah," she smiled brightly per usual, "Hey, call me Anya! I thought we were over that hurdle!"

Anyastasia Braginskaya, or commonly known as Anya Skaya for short. She's a very bright, hyper, smart, and friendly celestronaut of the Hetalexa. She was an ashen blond, like someone else you readers know, but her eyes were icy blue, way lighter than Alfred's. She's been with him for about two years and he's warmed up to her quite a bit, along with the rest of the crew. That was saying something, considering he doesn't make many friends and would much rather date his computer or his work.

"I just feel like saying the longer version," Alfred spared her a small smile, in which Anya smiles bigger at the rarity.

"That's fine with me, I guess, for now. Come, comrade, Amilashka made lunch!" Anya then pulled Alfred by the central room. It's nice and spacious with its oblong, white community table, used for many purposes, besides being eaten on, paperwork and the like. Seated around the table are six others, three Americans and three Russians. But they all got along like family.

"Captain, you made it," Amelia, or Amilashka, as Anya put it. Her seat was right next to him as he sat down. Placed in front of them was a vast array of American and Russian food. English and Russian are spoken and working here for five years teach you some things about the other nation.

"You make it sound like I'm never here," Alfred scoffs.

"Well, whenever you have work days you just plow through your documents non-stop," Amelia rolled her eyes, "Then on your days off, you're here doing work. Seriously, you need to chill and hibernate for a couple weeks."

"You say that after we had to hibernate out at Pluto," Anya snickered, "Fredka was the last to wake," she saw said American sigh as he pinched his nose bridge, "Two weeks late, in fact," the crew burst into laughter, with the exception of Alfred.

"I'm telling you, there's something wrong with that pod that I had," Alfred grumbled, "Once I get a day off, I'm gonna take a look at that hibernation chamber."

What they're talking about is that the ship has been to every planet in this galaxy once, nearly every moon, and, of course, Pluto, a dwarf planet. The ship has been magically enhanced. Since the nations can't get out of their work to test the Hetalexa out, they've entrusted the task to these eight. The ship is very fast, probably using something similar to the matter within their Saronium Rings. So they didn't take much time to get around to the different planets and moons.

Suddenly, the doors slide open and two toddlers quickly drift inside, despite the zero gravity mode being turned off. They were greatly drawn by the food and the man who was making a grab for the mash potatoes.

"Alfie!" the little girl squealed as she flew toward him.

"Fedya!" the other boy smiled brightly as he raced against his sister.

The two ended up colliding into their captain, causing him to fall out of his chair, "Ack-! Nasa! Rosco! You two didn't need to plow me over, I ain't going anywhere!"

When he says this, a bright camera flash sparked behind the three. Alfred turns his head and sees Anya holding a camera and snapping a picture, "Ha," she lowered the camera smiling, "That's a keeper."

Alfred glanced at the walls of this area. Pictures of them in different planets, not outside, of course, showing the open dome window of the control center, meteor showers, beautiful nebulas, star clusters, and constellations. These walls were full of them. Alfred had a personal album of photos, himself. Shots that were carefully arranged, captions and tidbits of information written neatly beside and/or under the pictures. As embarrassing as it may look, he even had cute little stickers around the photos.

The album, itself, is locked and down at his office on Earth. No one steps foot in his office without his permission. No one. Not Matthew, not Anya, not Amelia, not even America or Russia, they respect that. So he can trust that his album would be safe.

~~~~~

Ivan had no idea how he got into this mess. Gilbert had asked him to come with him to this party at the local bar. The Russian thought it would be great to share some alcohol with fellow workers as he did back in Russia...only to realize that they can't hold their liquor very well.

"Ivaaaaaaan~!" one of the women came out of nowhere and draped herself on him.

"A-Ah-?!" Ivan doubled over backward, crashing into the barside, into a chair, the woman still on top of him.

Just as she was about to do even more stuff to the flustered and extremely uncomfortable Russian, she gets yanked away and shoved into a different man (who apparently accepted her wholeheartedly). Ivan timidly looked up at his savior and is met with a serious businessman-looking person with golden hair and beautiful cerulean blue eyes behind...rectangular glasses. He definitely looked incredibly smart in that suit. Actually, he'd probably look good in anything, if Ivan was honest.

The stranger turned to Ivan and gave him a slight glare, "Hmph," was all he said. Ivan couldn't help but feel like it was in a heavily disappointed notion. He was holding a flute of champagne that he didn't even know the bar served. The man finished it off, then slid the glass to the bartender with his money and bill, who wasn't even paying attention to him. In fact, no one seemed to, except Ivan.

With that, the man adjusted his navy blue tie and walked out of the bar.

"Braginsky!" Gilbert stumbled over to the fazed Russian, slinging an arm around him, with a big glass of beer in one hand, "Ya enjoyin' the party?"

He didn't say anything back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tell me your thoughts!  
> So, yeah, I felt like I had to bust it down to those parts...sorry if it looked awkward...


	4. Hungry

[KalinkAmerikana]: YOU WENT TO A FREAKING BAR AND DRANK FREAKING ALCOHOL FREDKA I AM SO PROUD OF YOU!!!

[AlfredFJones]: Don't get too ahead of yourself, Anya. It was just for a couple flutes.

[KalinkAmerikana]: So? Didya get the hangover or something?

[AlfredFJones]: You think so very less of me, of course, not.

[KalinkAmerikana]: You have a liver of steel, comrade.

[AlfredFJones]: Right back at you.

No matter what Alfred does, if it's out of the ordinary, Anya was bound to find out one way or another. She monitors the Hetalexa's satellite camera, so she could pinpoint down on Alfred if she knew where to look. He had gotten an email from her while he was working down at Interstellar and thus this happened.

[KalinkAmerikana]: Yeah, but y'know the bigger question. Do you reek?

[AlfredFJones]: I'm not going to be up at the Hetalexa after drinking. I don't want Nasa or Rosco smelling that stuff if that's what you mean.

[KalinkAmerikana]: Aww~! That means you're not coming up for feast time! What are you going to eat???

[AlfredFJones]: I'll go to some restaurant. No one knows who I am. There's a new Russian one around the corner that I could probably go to.

[KalinkAmerikana]: If ya find anything new, bring it up here! Like food!

[AlfredFJones]: I know.

His Rolex chimes. 11 PM. He wonders if he'd permitted to work longer, but he didn't want to be locked in the building and found sleeping in his office. That would destroy all that work ethic he had built up. Alfred got up from his chair, left the office, locked the door, and left the building.

~~~~~

It's the morning of the next day and he realizes it's his day off. He can't go up to Hetalexa since his spare clothes are in his room, so he doesn't have them on Earth. NASA and Roscosmos were two that he did not want to run into. Plus, he sighed, he made the stupid decision of talking about a Russian restaurant. Oh, well, now he's gotta get some Russian takeout.

"Hello, sir!" a woman with...well, big assets greets him. Her accent was very thick, but Alfred could tell there was a mix of some sort of other Slavik dialect. She seemed to be the only one there at the moment, "Are you dining by yourself?"

"...Yes," Alfred says finally.

She guides him to his table and asks for what he'll drink and the like. He was glad that they served coffee. The woman was pleasantly surprised that he knew specific Russian dishes and pronounced them properly. Alfred decides that he better just settle for something not so much like...a feast. He ends up ordering borsch with garlic bread.

The woman, who Alfred learns is named Katyusha, was very surprised that Alfred went through five bowls of borsch, eight baskets of garlic bread and six cups of coffee. The man didn't seem like he was overly full and bloated. He simply stood up as if he hadn't eaten at all and handed her the money by cash.

"Katyusha," he says his second word in conversation ever while being here, "The Russian nickname for Yekatrina," it didn't sound like a question.

"Yes," she smiled. He sounded plenty stiff, but she felt like that he was just awkward, "Please come again."

"I might," Alfred murmurs honestly. Then remembered something, "Actually, can I get a couple baskets of garlic bread to go?"

"You want more?" Katyusha laughed, kind of relieved since she had to make much more due to his ravenous appetite. Alfred had accepted all the bread and assured him that he could carry it all by himself, leaving her with more money as a tip. He doesn't say anything as he stows into an alleyway, no one seeming to take care to the man with a million garlic baskets. What's more is that you couldn't smell the alcohol smell on him anymore. Alfred thinks that he's fine now to go back to Hetalexa. Plus, Anya would get her food, along with everyone else.

Who knows, maybe he'll go back to that restaurant.

...What was it called, again?

~~~~~

"Vanya! You would not believe the customer that I had gotten today!" Katyusha bounded toward her brother as he exited the elevator that took him to the floor above the restaurant.

"They didn't do anything to you, did they?" Ivan's voice instantly sounded worried, despite his fatigued state. He hadn't had a day off, so he was busy working hard, trying not to be worried about why Mr. Jones' office lights were off. He forgot to ask Matthew about that.

"Nyet! No! He was a sweetheart, I assure you. Just a little awkward, didn't say much, but he bought and ate a lot of food!" she grinned happily.

"That...sounds unusual," Ivan raised a brow, "How much did he eat?" she told him how much and the price, "Chto-?! And he ate all of it...and paid in cash. Did he look off?"

"Why are you being so defensive, brother? He didn't do anything to me," Katyusha huffed, "He looked quite smart, actually. Rich, perhaps. He had the most inhuman blue eyes and blond hair, it was incredible."

"...You're not just saying that because he was attractive?" Ivan's interest was perked. His life has been filled with pretty blond, blue-eyed men lately.

"Nyet, I am being honest," she sure did look like it, "I couldn't really believe it."

Ivan thought for a moment, "And...I am supposing that he did not give his name, considering that he didn't even pay with credit or debit."

"...No, he didn't," Katyusha sighed, "It would've been nice to know his name, but he barely even spoke, to begin with. When he ordered, he said all of the Russian dishes perfectly, I can tell you that. But otherwise, nothing..."

A blond with blue eyes, wearing a smart suit, Ivan later hears that this man also wore rectangular glasses, didn't talk much, seeming unable to be fazed, serious, huge appetite apparently, knew a lot about Russian and the language, yet not really a talker.

Ivan wondered. Was it the same man at the bar party?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah, haha...here, you go...


	5. Curious

Ivan sees that Mr. Jones's in his office, still as unknown as ever. Everyone seemed to be mumbling about work and the like, while Gilbert and his friends were slacking off a tad. Ivan just stuck to working to the best of his ability, motivated that he might lure Mr. Jones out of his office one day. He's capable to leave it, he wasn't here yesterday. But just like Matthew said, he had sent in a good stack of reports and sorted data during the time of his day off.

"Don't work too hard," Gilbert's face scrunched up, "Don't want ya ending up like Jones."

The Russian sighed, his shoulders slacking, reaching up to rub his neck. He was exhausted. How did Alfred work as hard as he did, he'll probably never know. Ivan stood up from his seat, his brain still a little foggy with NASA reports and the like.

"As Gil said, you do not want to end up like him," the French coworker, Francis Bonnefoy, mused, "You do not want unsavory rumors and whatnot after you."

"...Unsavory rumors?" Ivan said curiously.

"Dunno, I hear that some of them may be true," Gilbert snickered.

"That is why they're called 'rumors', mon ami," Francis huffed.

"Yes, like what?" Ivan pressed impatiently. Why he was so suddenly intrigued, he couldn't really tell, but what about Mr. Jones wasn't shrouded in a mystery that wouldn't anyone want to figure out?

"Well, there's the one that Jones might not even exist and he was just some indulged hallucination," Gilbert supplied, "I mean, a lot of us were smashed that party and what were the chances us remembering specific details like 'golden hair' a fricking cowlick, ahoge, whatever-shut up, we're not having this argument-the shape of his glasses frames, the blue suit, and tie, cerulean blue eyes," Gilbert sputtered in a harsh and exasperated manner, "Who the frick says 'cerulean'?! I don't even think any of us know what shade cerulean is on blue off the top of our freaking heads!"

"That...does sound reasonable," Ivan murmured. That part did make sense, but then where did the description of his rumored appearance come from?

"There's also the indication that Mattieu might have seen him before, recently," Francis said, flourishing on a French version of their boss's name.

"Then the one where he might be a ghost."

"That he's the president of NASA."

"He's really female."

"All of us have been brainwashed."

"He's actually a criminal-"

"Whoa! Whoa! What are we talking about over here?" a soft but exasperated voice chides. The trio turned around and is met with Matthew's irritated expression.

"Ah! Mattieu!" Francis tries to put his arm around the Canadian's shoulder, but Matthew bats it away.

"Anyway, Ivan, don't believe those rumors, they're not true," Matthew sighed.

"Oh? How do you know, birdie?" Gilbert smirk.

"It's Williams, to you," he grumbled, "I'm his boss, I get files and reports from him every day, from his respective computer, from his office, and I do have his description files, so he does look like what it says."

Gilbert scoffed, "Even the cerulean part?"

Matthew looked up in thought, "...Personally, I don't know where that description part came from...then again, neither does it talk about glasses frames and how good one would look in a blue suit and tie..."

"Ha! So my point still stands!" Gilbert pumps his fist in the air.

"But you still wouldn't know where that certain description came from," Ivan mused.

"...Whatever, it doesn't matter," Matthew huffed, "Get back to work."

~~~~~

Ivan walked back home from the bus stop. It's nighttime and he wants nothing more than to go to bed. Mr. Jones was still there when he left, even though he made another attempt to get him out. He didn't want to appear as obnoxious and desperate, no, that'll probably annoy him to stay inside further. Yawning, Ivan opened the back door and stepped foot into the elevator leading up to the second floor.

"Welcome home, Vanya," Katyusha smiled warmly.

Ivan nodded in her direction, setting his briefcase down on the kitchen table, as he sat down for his late dinner, "You really shouldn't stay up like this, sestra," Ivan sighed.

"You can't say that when you come back home so late," Katyusha whined, "You didn't do this back at Roscosmos."

"...I know," Ivan murmured. Was he really working this hard just to see one person? How the heck did he know this was even gonna work?

~~~~~

Alfred's working on the pod that malfunctioned during their expedition on Pluto. It was his day off and the entire crew was practically begging him to do anything but paperwork, research, documents, whatever. Alfred grudgingly obliged, but he wanted his hands to do something.

He had a silent pride for being some epitome of an engineer. The man always seemed to know what to do with tools and machinery. If there was something wrong with the spacecraft or anything electrical, Alfred was your person.

As he was tinkering around in the wirings of the pod, he heard the door to the hibernation chamber slide open with a digital beep. He didn't pay much attention to it since he was so absorbed in his work, but the whap on the back of his head did.

"Fredka, you need to eat," he looked up and is met with the worried eyes of Anya, "Ye, you have oil splatters all over your shirt. You'll need to wear something more presentable for when they come over..."

"'They'?" Alfred popped his head out of the mess of wires, "America and Russia?"

"Da, they're coming over for the progress report. I assume you already had yours done?" Anya quirked a smile, already knowing the answer.

"Why, of course," Alfred snorted, laughing a little on the side, "Had it done ages ago and then some."

"Right, right, c'mon, get outta there," Anya hoisted Alfred gently from the pod, leading him out of the hibernation chamber and toward the bedroom corridor.

"Hm? Where's your Saronium ring?" Anya inspected Alfred's right hand.

Said American had a slightly panicked look on his face for a split second, "It's still back in the hibernation chamber...I took it off so the jewel wouldn't get snagged-"

"Don't worry, Fredka, I'll go get it," the Russian patted her friend on the back, "You just make yourself look good for the nationwomen."

And with that, the two parted.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> When Anya says 'Ye', I didn't make a spelling error. It's not a cultural thing, it's just an Anya thing. She's very extroverted at times. Alfred's more mellow than her. I think I might've forgotten to say this in the past chapters, but the rings that Alfred and the other celestronauts have are called 'Saronium rings'. They create Saronium gates that transport them to the last place they turned their ring at.
> 
> So, let's say that Alfred turned his ring in his bedroom and appeared in his office. Then he turns his ring again in an alleyway, he'd then appear back in his room. Turn again, in the alleyway and so forth. Does that make sense?
> 
> Ye, okay, hoped you liked this and tell me what you think!


	6. Away

"Hey, birdie, where's the workaholic?" Gilbert pulled Matthew out of his train of thought.

"Huh?" the Canadian blinked, realizing he was being addressed, "Oh, Jones? He's at a meeting," he says casually as he returns back to his paperwork.

Gilbert, Francis, and a couple others gasped at this, "What?!" Gilbert slammed his hands on Matthew's desk, "And he's seeing people?!"

Ivan looked on behind the crowd, suddenly listening intently. Judging by Gilbert's reaction, Mr. Jones must not get out that often to see other people.

"Calm down, Beilschmidt, you're ruining my work," Matthew muttered, "Look, what Jones does is his business. He doesn't normally attend any meetings in person or give live input, it's just this time...it's more...urgent."

"But why? We never get to see him in our crucial meetings."

"Like I said, it's his business," Matthew gritted his teeth, "All of you get back to work!"

~~~~~

It's the next day and after Matthew cleared everyone away, again, from his desk and drilled them back into work, Gilbert leaned toward Ivan's workspace, with Francis next to him.

"Something's up with Jones, he's never gone this long," the Prussian albino growled.

"As Mr. Williams says, it's his business," Ivan said, trying to bury himself in work. But in reality, his brain was trying to make up scenarios about what has happened to the mysterious worker. Did something happen to him? Is he okay? Maybe he's sick, Ivan knows how that's like. He got sick one time in Roscomos and everyone panicked that he died or something, but when he returned and announcing that he was just sick, everyone was relieved. Yes, maybe that's it. He'll be back in no time.

"But he said meeting. Meeting. No meeting takes more than a day like this," Gilbert insisted, "At least not multiple days in a row! Unless something bad happened?"

"Mr. Beilschmidt, please, I'm trying to work," Ivan groaned. He's never going to get this done at this rate. The curiosity is eating at him. 

Francis tsks at his friend, "Please, mon ami, the Russie is trying to work. Look, mayhap he is just sick, oui? Nothing to worry about. He'll be back before you know it."

Ivan hopes so.

~~~~~

Ivan was walking home from the bus stop, without work, now with thoughts of Mr. Jones flooding his head. It was just...unusual to not see a silhouette slaving away at the computer or writing like he's running out of time. It was just normal and he was probably going to come back soon. So why hasn't he?

"Welcome back, brother!" Katyusha greeted heartily, only to find her brother's crestfallen face, "What is the matter?"

"Hm? Ah, it's nothing," Ivan sighed as he entered through the front door of the cafe, "Are you closing up?"

"Hah, I suppose I should-" Katyusha was cut off by the sound of the front doorbell.

"Excuse me! Are you still open?!"

~~~~~

It seems like they weren't closing quite, yet. A Russian woman who seems to know the area, in particular, entered in saying that a friend recommended her place. Despite her Russian accent, she acted very much American, but in a good way, they supposed.

"I think you've seen him," she said as she reached for another breadstick, "Y'know, tall, blonde, tanned a little, and blue eyes with glasses?"

Katyusha gasped, "Oh, yes! He was here not too long ago. Haven't seen him since then. How is he?" she made idle conversation as she took up Ivan's dishes from his meal up front. Said Russian man couldn't help but eavesdrop on the conversation.

"He's...doing well, I suppose," the lady frowned, "He's in the middle of a conference right now. It's kind of a big deal and it's just him and our two superiors. He's not gonna be able to go back to work afterward."

"Why so?"

"Well, he'll be tired, that's for sure. He'll probably be given a new assignment and then some. The two are very worried about him. He's such a workaholic, y'know?"

Ivan's ears pricked at the word. Workaholic? A blond, tanned, blue-eyed man? Is it the same person from the bar? Or maybe...

"Miss?" Ivan turned around, his violet eyes meeting her icy blue, "Where does your friend work at?"

"Hm?" she rose a brow, "Why? Do you think you know him?"

"Maybe," Ivan murmured, "I work at the NASA Interstellar. I was transferred from Roscomos."

"Really?!" the woman broke into a bright smile, "Same! I'm from Roscomos! Yeah, he's from the NASA Interstellar. Huh, maybe you two know each other."

"That's wonderful," Katyusha smiled happily, "Vanya's always had trouble making friends, so I'm glad to hear that."

"Sestra," Ivan groaned.

The other Roscomos worker laughed, "Haha, don't worry. Fredka's like that, too. I met him back at an interaction meeting...well, something like that," she chuckled with a secret smile, "Do not worry, you get used to the Americans really easily. That is if you stick to the right crowds and trust your gut more than your pride."

"Really," murmured Katyusha in awe. She was soaking up these words.

"Of course, your pride and your dignity are two different things. Treat them accordingly," She chortled a childish and brazen laugh.

"...'Fredka'?" Ivan questioned.

"Mm! Yeah, Alfred," the woman clarified, confirming Ivan's world, "Alfred Freedom Jones! My best friend and my NASA partner!"

~~~~~

The woman left with a flourish of her hand and a generous tip. She bid them a do'svidonya and headed off to who knows where. As Ivan helped his sister with cleaning the tables, he was lost in thought about what he had just learned. Without a doubt in his mind, he confirmed that the man he saw at the bar and the man whom Katyusha saw are the same people and that he was the infamous Alfred Jones of NASA Interstellar. He also apparently had a Russian friend and partner from Roscomos, who seemed have been with him for a long time.

He can't believe it. Ivan wanted to bang his head against the wall. He couldn't believe his first impression on Mr. Jones was at the bar! He looked so disappointed in him! Wait, did Mr. Jones even know it was him? It wasn't like Ivan could change his appearance. Whatever damage that he has done was done. He'll have to make up for the failure the next time they meet.

What if they didn't meet again? Ivan couldn't stand that thought. He wanted another chance. This wasn't fair, he didn't know it was him. What was Mr. Jones doing at a bar, anyway? Receiving paperwork from someone? He did have a flute of champagne on him...

"Brother?" Katyusha poked her head out of the kitchen, "Would you mind taking care of the table that our Roscomos friend was seated at? I think I forgot to pick that one up."

"I'll take care of it," Ivan responded, heading over to the table. 

Just as he started cleaning, he noticed a glimmer that sat on the seat of the booth. Ivan glanced down and picked the shimmering object up. It was a golden ring with an intricate blue gemstone embedded in the band. It looked simple enough. Ivan wondered if it was hers. Ivan turned the ring in his hand. He peered inside the inner side of the band and saw that there were little words engraved in the ring.

'Alfred F. Jones - Cap. Hetalexa Spaceship'

All of a sudden, he felt his body being wrapped in a whirl of light like he was getting sucked into some unreal vortex. He didn't get the chance to scream as the ring's power whisked him away to who knows where.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, this took forever! I haven't been working on this much and half the time I can't feel my fingers! Midwestern winters are known to kill, didya know that? And they say Russia's winters are harsh...  
> Also, is it just me, or are all the big RusAme writers just...not updating? I mean, I think it's just me because all of the stories that I've been waiting for an update haven't posted in a while...I am so impatient...
> 
> Anyways! Here's another update! Tell me what you think of it. Like, seriously, I love it when you guys comment.


	7. Unreal

Ivan crash-lands onto a smooth, white, and cold surface. He swears that he hears somewhere in his joints pop and wrack in pain. While struggling to get up, he slowly surveys his surroundings. It appeared to look like some futuristic bedroom, with pristine white walls and flooring, a soft and smooth, wrinkleless bed, everything clean and in order, except for the desk, which was cluttered with papers and a couple open books. Where was he?

He knew that snooping around wasn't exactly polite, but surely this situation could make some exceptions. Ivan picked up a couple papers that had been handwritten notes and skimmed through a couple papers. Terms of space, regulation reports, even things that were recognizable as paperwork from NASA and Roscomos were among the pile. All in one place. Judging by the dates on some, many are recent and most finished and ready for approval.

Violet eyes glanced up from the desk, facing the window. Instead of being met with an inhuman and vivid sight. Star-filled midnight voids, outer space with nowhere to land and everywhere to fall, and out in the horizon...the planet Earth, Earth's moon and the Sun. He pressed his hand to the window, feeling the cold against his palm. There was just no way that this was real. 

But it was.

Ivan Braginsky was legit in outer space in some spacecraft probably light years away from Earth and it didn't even take him a minute.

What.

Something must've happened to him. He must've been captured. Kidnapped. What happened to Katyusha? Did she call the police? Ivan pulled out his phone, only to have found it restarting. What the heck?

He felt his face. This wasn't a VR. He changed his view through the window and the outside world shifted accordingly. The window wasn't a projection. He whirled around the room. There was a futuristic, white door. Almost blending into the rest of the room if it weren't for the silver border and the touch screen panel next to it. A possible exit.

Ivan slowly crept toward the intriguing touch screen on the wall like it was a dangerous bomb. It was just a black screen with no buttons. He brought up a finger and touched the center of it. The screen glowed blue for about a second then faded away. That's it? Confused, Ivan tapped the screen twice, this time, at a fast pace. This made the door slide open, securing into the side with a thud.

Okay. That opens that.

The wary Russian cautiously stepped into the not-so-spacious corridor. It seemed like a regular hallway to him, but it was kinda wide for one. This was a weird spacecraft to have imitations of real homestyle design. Everything was mostly that pristine white, but it shone much brighter and showed off that glossy finish with the lights that were embedded into the ceiling like large stars. It was a creative touch and lit up the way quite nicely.

As quietly as he could, he carefully walked across the hallway and tried to find his way through certain areas. It wasn't like the hallways suddenly turned into a maze, it was more on the case that some areas lead to some pretty big open spaces where he didn't want to get caught. He didn't know who could be up here, but...

Ivan looked down at his hand. On his right hand, ring finger was the ring that started this whole mess. Trying as silently as he could, he yanked the forsaken ring off and resisted from yeeting it across the hall. This place didn't echo much, but still, he might need it to get back. If he could figure out how to get back.

While wandering around the spaceship, he heard voices from another room down the hallway he was in, "Y'know, I dunno about that idea. He's already tired, as he is. Asking him about that now would just make him cranky, wouldn't it?"

A Russian-accented voice chides back, "It's not like he hasn't gotten cranky when we've asked a question before. He hasn't snapped at us, just..."

"Made himself look uncomfortable. I say we sneak some sleeping pills into his food and stuff him in one of the pods. He's been awake for more than what is healthy."

Another voice, another American, chimes into the two-way conversation, "What are you two talking about?"

"Amelia!" the other American said, "Don't you just think that Captain should just crash for a couple days? I hear he's gonna go back to Earth after his meeting with America and Russia."

"Afraid so, he's going back," the woman named 'Amelia' sighed, "This hasn't happened before, I know, but he's been gone for too long. Interstellar has been talking."

"What about Roscomos and Nasa?" the Russian asked, "Surely they do not know about what had happened? There will be a mission we'll have to take care of soon! Having him go back down will only exhaust him further..."

"I dunno about that one, but I'm sure Alfred will be alright. Somehow."

Alfred? Ivan caught the name instantly. He remembered the name and title on the ring before he was zapped into this place; 'Alfred F. Jones - Cap. Hetalexa Spaceship'. Hetalexa? Was that the name of this spaceship? Mr. Jones is the captain of a freaking spaceship-?!

"Well...if you say so, I guess."

"I do not know about that...I'm so worried."

"I bet you all are," Amelia sighed. Ivan's face paled and his heart accelerated when he heard her next words were closer than the last ones, "We all know how hard he works."

She was right at the door and Ivan wasn't going to stick around to hear the two taps for that panel of white to slide open. He immediately tapped twice the first door screen his eyes landed on and bolted in the minute there was enough space to wedge his body in. He quickly refuted the open door command by double tapping the screen within the room, shutting the door soundly.

He held his breath. Clacking of heels. Boot footfalls. Louder. Even louder. Right in front of the door-

Softer. Softer. Quiet.

Just the sound of Ivan's pounding heartbeat, digital beeps, and signals. The panicking man sunk down to the floor, grasping onto the seamless white interior like a lifeline, frustrated that there was nothing that his hands could harshly grip onto. 

So close. So very, very close. Had she decided to go into this room, Ivan would've been tossed into the oxygen-less, open space to die. Well, maybe he'll be lucky and just be transported back home and possibly get his memories wiped of the whole thing? He didn't know how dangerous they were and they definitely had something inhuman on their side if they had devices that could get people up in space in mere seconds.

But all of his progress of a stable heart rate is thrown out the window by a familiar silhouette that is so opaque and so overshadowing Ivan like a freaking horror movie, and the growling of low and menacing words;

"What are you doing up here?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hA-  
> Nearly forgot to post this one. Hmm...it seems kinda short, but I'm trying to decide on whether to put this story in /this/ possible route or /that/ possible route. Buuuuuut, I think I know where I'm going! I...think...  
> Tell me what you think!  
> (no seriously, please do)  
> Oh! And now we're colder than Russia AND Antarctica!  
> (General Winter hates us so bad, we're undergoing a deep freeze...and I'm smack dab in the middle of it...)


	8. Flash

It was the man at the bar.

It was the man from his sister's description.

It was the man that was friends with that one lady.

It was the man behind the frosted glass in the unknown office of the NASA Interstellar.

It was Mr. Alfred Jones.

And he looked like he was about to kill Ivan.

"What," he repeated menacingly, "Are you doing here?"

He marched up and hauled Ivan up by his collar. The Russian never imagined him to be this strong. Ivan gulped, trying to pry Mr. Jones' hands off of his clothing. Mr. Jones is taller than him.

"I-I," what was he supposed to say? "I-I don't-"

"You don't know?" Mr. Jones seethes, "Of course, you don't. How did you get up here?"

That was the most amount of words he's heard him say. Sadly, their recent meet-up is being turned into a threatening point, "I-I don't know exactly!" he quickly choked out the words, terrified of Mr. Jones' darkening cerulean eyes. They were really cerulean, "I-It was a ring! A ring brought me here!"

Mr. Jones blinked.

"Y-You have to believe me! That was literally how I got here! I even still have it!" Ivan begged.

"Shut up, I know what you're talking about," Mr. Jones growled. He dropped Ivan on the floor and stood back, "Where is it?"

Ivan tried to scramble away, "W-What?"

The blond captain's cerulean eyes turned stormy, "The ring, you bunker."

The Russian hastily dug into his pockets and produced the small silver ring with its glittering blue jewel. He nervously held the ring out to Mr. Jones, scared that he was going to rip his hand clean off his wrist.

Surprisingly, Mr. Jones carefully took the ring from Ivan's shaky hands, examining it thoroughly. He glanced back down at Ivan, who had slowly stood up, trying to flatten himself to the white panel door. Not saying another word, he swiftly slid the ring back on his right ring finger and turned around, walking away.

"...U-Uh...?" Ivan choked out.

Mr. Jones pressed a panel on the far wall of the circular room. Looking around, the place had eight body capsules spaced out evenly on the walls, complete with a control system on the round center in the middle of the room. They looked like sleeping chambers of some sort. Kind of like the ones you'd imagine from sci-fi spaceships. Like this one, Ivan thought.

He watched the man speak to the panel, "Amelia," that was the woman Ivan heard in that one room, "Where were you last before transporting?"

"What?" the same strong feminine voice came out of the screen's invisible speaker, "I was in the capital, why?"

"I need you to take someone back on ground level," Mr. Jones said.

"Can't they just teleport?"

"We have a stowaway. A bunker."

Ivan didn't know what a 'bunker' was but by the tone of his steadily changing monotone voice, it wasn't something good. Or at least he thought it wasn't. What was this? Some sort of space pirate? He seemed more like a pirate captain than a spaceship captain.

Amelia seemed to share the same demeanor, "Huh," her voice turned a little, "A bunker, you say?"

"Yes," he said indifferently.

Hers, on the other hand, turned toward low and calculating, "Do we need to flash them?"

"We'll have to."

"F-Flash?" Ivan whispered on the other side of the room, not daring to go near where Mr. Jones was. Had this been a different situation, he would've had a disgusted look upon his face. However, he could tell they didn't mean what he initially thought.

"Very well, get him secured," Amelia clicked off with a digital sound.

With that Alfred abruptly turned around and stalked toward Ivan's direction. The last thing he remembered was his annoyed and seething expression before his non-ringed fist collided with the side of his head.

~~~~~

Ivan woke up barred and cuffed to a flat and slanted white table. It was cold and against his back and somewhat annoying uncomfortable. The restraints were tight and snug on his waist, wrists, ankles...and his neck. They had pulled his scarf down. The metal band covered the marred skin. Ivan had a fleeting thought that they saw his ruined neck, but that was now the least of his worries.

This almost looked like they were going to cut him open.

He looked around the room he was stuck in. It was smaller than the circular room he met Mr. Jones in, but it was fairly spacious. Besides its white decorum and futuristic electronics, the most terrifying thing in this room was the large contraption of some sort aiming at him in a slanted angle, the crystal point on the end precisely at his head. Was it going to stab him? Was he going to die?

A door opened in some unseen part of the room, where Ivan couldn't see. Clacking of booted footfalls and blunted heels filled the eerie room. One person. Calm and collected. Not skittish or in a hurry. No mercy found in those footsteps. 

Coming into his field of vision was a tall woman. Not as tall as Mr. Jones, but very similar. In fact, so similar that she had his hair, skin, and almost eye color. Her glasses were even the same brand and shape, probably even the same prescription if he knew. It was like she and him were siblings (and for a bizarre moment, maybe even related to Mr. Williams, they just look too similar). 

Her wavy, short, golden hair framed her darker cerulean eyes as her head leaned down a little to meet Ivan's gaze, "Well, I dunno how you got ahold of his ring, but it'll all be over and you won't remember a thing," she sighed, her voice in a motherly fashion.

It took Ivan a couple seconds to figure out that she was the Amelia Alfred was talking to, "You're that woman-!" he said before he could take it back.

The woman, Amelia, chuckled warmly, "Haha, that's me," her expression turned sad, "You don't need to look so scared, dude."

If he weren't in this situation, he'd laugh at that 'dude' bit. However, it did defuse a little of the tension. A little, "Am..." he choked, "Am I going...to die...?" he eyed the pointy contraption frighteningly.

Amelia stared for a second then burst into a small fit of warm laughter, "Ah, haha, no, no, no, no. Was that it? Ah, no, sir, we're just wiping away your recent memories of you being on the spaceship."

Ivan stared, still a tad bit terrified. He just had to be dreaming now. Maybe he was having some sort of phycological metaphorical sleep paralysis within some subconscious dreamscape. Come to think of it, he really needed to lay off those kinds of books, "H-How will you do that?"

"Basically," she leaned her shoulder against the slanted table, "We beam light at your forehead and all of your recent memories from about an hour ago," she walked over to an area that he couldn't see behind him. He hears a couple of electronic beeps which clues him in that its a control system of some sort, "Yep, seeing as the flash is set, it's about an hour ago."

So, they can't infiltrate his memories. That's a relief. Wait, "Flash?"

"That cone-shaped crystal in front of you," she said, "You won't remember this, so I suppose it's okay to tell you, but that thing is made out of something called Saronium. It's a makeshift life-sustaining and teleportation element that is used practically everywhere on the ship," she pressed a couple more buttons, "That little jewel on that ring you had," a chuckle, "That's Saronium."

So some unknown matter of whatever teleported him onto this ship. Ivan's violet eyes returned to the bigger one that was aimed in front of him, "T-Then," he choked, "What does that one do?"

"Well, it enables a kinda teleportation," Amelia said busily, "It teleports an amount of memories from a selected duration of time into a small orb that we'll shatter and dispose into the Sun."

Ivan couldn't help but feel a little unnerved of how flippantly she explained that. His memories. From an hour ago. Put into a ball by this big thing. Shattered. Tossed into the Sun. Gone. Done. Probably gonna be sedated and brought back on Earth, where he'll be like none of this ever happened. He feels like this is incredibly wrong. It's like he should have some bigger reaction or part now that he's involved in this. And honestly...

...He didn't want to forget Mr. Jones.

"W-What if I don't want," he hesitated, "...To lose my memories?"

The tapping of the screens behind him stopped. Then he heard a low chuckle, a bit of the warmth in Amelia's voice vanished, a small icier feel filled it, "Well, then," he heard slow clicks of her heeled boots. He craned his secured neck to see Amelia's face. Only to regret it soon after.

Her expression still held that once-was motherly smile. Eyes were closed, smile got tight, her face shadowed over by the overhead light. Amelia looked terrifying, "We'll just put you out for a while," she whipped up a small syringe. Smaller than any syringe he's ever seen; almost like an injectable IV, "Besides, I don't think you'd want to be conscious during the extraction part, now, do you?"

"H-Hey! Shouldn't you, at least, get some consent before you just take away someone's memories?" he cried, "What if it's just a couple memories I'd want to keep? Not the whole hour!"

"You mean the ones of our Captain?" she quirked a brow, one of her darkened cerulean eyes peeked open, "Heard none of you really see him down there on ground level."

Ivan gulped, scared of what she'd do, "W-What if I do...?"

She glanced at the flash thing, crossing her arms in thought. Then turned her closed-eye, wide smile face down on him and said, "Mm, too bad! You get the whole package off your shoulders!"

"What?!" he thrashed. He didn't want to be in there. He wanted out. Now. This was getting scary. Like...even scarier than before. He doesn't trust this lady. Maybe she and Mr. Jones were related.

"Okay~! Let's put you to sleep, now," she clicked something on the side of the table and the neckband slid away, revealing his scarred tissue, "Huh, something bad must've happened there," she murmured, uncaringly. Ivan mentally screamed and cried for her not to see his ugly scars. Let alone puncture a needle of all things into it.

"Now, hold still," Amelia grumbled, "You don't want to get hurt, do you?"

"Get away from me!" Ivan struggled in his restraints, itching to scream in an unmanly cry away from that sharp needle. He wasn't afraid of shots in general, it was just...leave his neck alone.

"You're just getting difficult, you bunker," she glowered.

Again with the 'bunker' nickname. It suddenly came upon him that he won't know what that word means after the flash. This felt like a life and death situation and Ivan wanted to live.

"That's it," just as Amelia was about to give up on injecting him the safe way, the entire ship lurched sideways, throwing Amelia to a far wall. The syringe's glass shattered on the floor, the needle twisting into a blunted point. Ivan could tell from the twinkling sounds before the groaning of the abrupt movement shook the spacecraft.

When the swaying stopped, Amelia heaved herself up and walked quickly to what Ivan is to guess a communication panel like the one Alfred spoke through, "What the heck just happened?"

"Pureds! We're under attack!" a Russian voice cried with sounds of what kinda sounded like gunfire.

"Where's the Captain?!"

"I don't know! I thought he was in the pod chamber area! Someone left to look for him!"

"What do I do with the bunker?!"

"Leave him! He's secured, right?! Just put the door on lock-down. You have to help us!"

Amelia turned a spared Ivan a quick glance before bolting out of the room. Ivan catches her slam her hand on the outside panel and commanded, "Lock-down mode."

And with that, she was gone.

Ivan didn't like being alone now. What were Pureds? Under attack? They didn't know where the Captain, Mr. Jones, was? 

A hissing sound interrupted Ivan's thoughts. 

A lone, white feather floated down and rested on his nose.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think we're kinda outta General Winter's way...  
> Yo! Sorry this chapter took so long to come out...I'm trying my best! I promise!  
> I added stuff to the tags and the description now that I know where I wanna take this story.  
> See you guys on the next chapter!


	9. Pureds

Back in the control room, Alfred stormed toward the command system and roared into the mic, "Hetalexa, bring up the shield and ready the defense mechanisms!" he switched the projection of the broadcast to the intercom speakers, "Attention all celestronauts, we are under attack. Everyone ready your stations."

The Hetalexa responded to the command, an iridescent film covering racing all over the exterior of the ship, like a protective top coat of paint. Except this top coat is strong enough to deflect whole astroids. They don't particularly wear this while orbiting in around Earth, but it'll be useful if they're going against an incoming alien attack.

Especially if they're pureds.

"Wait a second," he halted in his movement, "We never disposed of that Russian's memories...he's still on the ship?!"

Angrily, he dashed through the corridors, speeding past confused celestronauts. He finally finds the person he's looking for and yanks her by the arm, "Ami! What did you do with that bunker?!"

"What? I-he, I mean, I put the room in lock-down and am now heading to my station-" she fumbled, confused.

Alfred's voice hardened, "Is. The bunker. Still. On the ship."

Amelia hesitated as she stumbled with her answer, "L-Like I said...he's in lock-down inside the flash room!"

As she says this, another communication link beeps open and another voice cries, "They're a phasing type! Some got past the barrier!" laser-shooting sounds and subtle explosions rang in the background as Alfred hears both celestronauts jerk down firing controls.

"Alright, both of you get back into position, I'll go check on the bunker," he commanded firmly as he sped out of the control deck.

He was nearing the corridor that the flash room was attached to when he heard a twinkling sound from the ceiling. The walls. Both. He slowly stopped his steps and listened.

...

.....

...Ceiling!

Like lightning, he yanked up his sleeve, turned a feature on his watch and metal magically wrapped itself around his lower arm and fist, making a blaster. Aiming true at one of the lights, he fired, practically blowing up that chunk of the ceiling. Three elegant, slender, and beautiful looking figures leap out of the hole. They were expressionless and elaborately decorated, like deadly, angelic dolls. It was their glowing red eyes that showed their corruption. They aimed their bows and notched arrows at Alfred, swiftly firing at the American celestronaut captain.

However, Alfred was faster and more experienced than these day-born soldiers. They poofed and vanished in a flurry of their own feathers. They floated to the ground with a muted glow before scattering away like sand. With a huff, the captain continued toward the flash room, his blaster ready for action.

Stopping in front of the door, he took a deep breath and steadied himself. The downside to these blasters was that it sapped his own energy to power it. Hence is high metabolism and the large need for food and fat. The barrel of the gun glowed with power as he pressed his hand against the door's control panel. 

The door slid open and Alfred peaked through the door. Nothing. No one was here. He carefully walked inside, his eyes flitting around cautiously. Didn't Amelia say that the bunker was secured in here? Where was he? The cuffs and restraints on the operating table were deactivated and there was no other man in sight, besides himself.

Alfred scowled. Don't tell him that he got captured by the Pureds. Where had he gone wrong? Usually, he was so much more careful. This is why he didn't make friends with his coworkers in Interstellar. He wouldn't have to focus to try to save them while protecting his ship and crew. Now he has to deal with this.

Listening silently and closing his eyes, he tried to sense around for the bunker and possibly the Pureds. Surely that oaf would've at least put up a fight against these things. Or, Alfred mentally grumbled, he tried escaping and shying away. He hoped that Russian had some sense of combat. The American started listening for signs of a struggle. 

~~~~~

Ivan squirmed and thrashed against his new restraints. Or at least he did mentally. 

White billowing figures had floated down from the ceiling and surrounded him. For a split second, Ivan had thought he was dead and they were going to whisk him away to the afterlife. But their subtly glowing red eyes burned holes into his head and scared him to no end. Why did everything here have to be terrifying? 

With a certain gaze of another, Ivan's body started numbing and slacking. Besides his facial expressions, his entire body just shut down and fell limp and lifeless.

However, his voice still worked, "What in the-?! What are you doing? Who are you?!"

What are you, he wanted to ask, but he was immediately gagged and hoisted into the hole they made in the ceiling. Ivan's body couldn't move and was helpless to these inhuman invaders. One of them jerked him still. His eyes dart around nervously. What were they going to do? Drag him out into the open space? With all this sci-fi that has happened to him, he wouldn't be surprised if these creatures were some alien race of some sort.

Well, those were the thoughts plaguing his mind as he laid unmoving in some cavity in the ceiling as they persisted against his movement. They haven't moved past the room with the memory-containing...what did she call it? Saronium? 

A shing.

Plastic-paneled metal sliding against plastic-paneled metal.

The door had opened. 

The aliens, or whatever, listened carefully and others held onto Ivan tightly. Clicking foot-falls step slowly toward the center of the room below. Toward the chair that Ivan was restrained. A tsking sound of sorts was heard and they stop right below them. Ivan prayed that whoever was in here would figure out where he was and save him. He wanted to go home. He didn't want to do this anymore. This was just so overwhelming and he'd almost take the flash thing that Amelia was talking about-

*BOOM*

A large gaping hole exploded into the ceiling. It shook everyone sitting above. The blast was so close and it nearly took off Ivan's foot. He may not be able to feel his body, but fear was a mental thing, after all. 

The creatures started pulling Ivan further back away from the hole. But not fast enough for Ivan to not get a glimpse of the room below and-

Mr. Jones!

There he was, aiming some sort of blue-glowing, Iron-Man-looking, silver fist-gun thingy at the hole. He swears that he saw him maneuver over and the two caught each other's eyes. While Ivan's were filled with fear, Mr. Jone's were filled with anger and...worry? It wasn't long until the American hoisted himself into the ceiling cavity and his weaponized arm's barrel started glowing a bright blue and getting brighter and brighter...

"Do'svidonya, Pureds."

It was like a feather bomb and scattering dust. With each blast, the pure white creatures explode in a flurry of feathers that scatter to the winds. Pretty soon they were all gone and all that was left was Ivan...who could finally regain feeling in his body.

Mr. Jones worked on getting the gag off his mouth, "Next time, don't touch things that don't belong to you," he said in his indifferent voice.

Ivan was gasping for air, as Alfred pressed something to his armored fist. The outer metal shell folded back and tucked into a spiral. It all secured itself underneath the tiny face of a Rolex watch. Ivan wasn't even going to ask how all of those mechanics fit in such a small compartment, but he just survived an alien invasion or something, so he wasn't going to get pronounced crazy, yet. 

The American celestronaut pressed a button somewhere in his ear. Some communication device of some sort, "Attention, celestronauts, report your divisions."

Ivan started hearing a series of reports that all pretty much said 'we're clear, they're taken care of'. Damage reports were heard of, but the majority of them were beyond the barrier. Also, to Ivan's relief, none of them reached Earth.

"Good job, everyone," he said, "Regroup in the control deck. We'll survey injuries there," with that, he pressed the button again and turned back to Ivan, "Can you move?"

Ivan gave a subtle nod.

"Good," he nodded back, pulling Ivan to his feet, then guiding him down the hole where he couldn't hurt himself.

Both of them heard a voice coming out of Mr. Jones' earpiece, "Captain!" it was Russian this time, Ivan noted, "You need to come here quick! Miss America and Miss Russia are here! They wish to speak to you!"

For the first time of Ivan's brief knowing of the stoic American space captain, there was a flicker of fear and anticipation in his eyes. The worry had seeped into his skin and Mr. Jones sent a fleeting glance at Ivan before turning back to the door, "You, bunker," he started walking, "You're coming with me."

Something told Ivan that he's going to keep his memories a little while longer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hhhhHHHEY!  
> Sorry that this chapter isn't so long and took FOREVER to come out. I'm not gonna give you excuses ;v;.   
> Anyways! We're gonna get to meet the nations! Er, a reminder that the nations here are fems because their counterparts are humans within this story ^^'.   
> Okay! See you guys in the next update! XD


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